


The Faith

by thorkiship18



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Deception, Demons, Evil Castiel, Explicit Language, Gods, Human Sacrifice, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Mystery, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is Missing, Scared Sam Winchester, Small Towns, Suspense, Worried Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 15:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13906509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorkiship18/pseuds/thorkiship18
Summary: Dean Winchester comes home late one night to find a mysterious message on his answering machine from his estranged brother, Sam. The message worries Dean, and he ends up traveling to a town mentioned in Sam's panicked message: Ebonpass.Upon getting there, Dean discovers that the small town is not what it seems as he contends with the town's religious mayor, and makes a shocking discovery.





	1. Ebonpass

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, guys! I've been waiting a long time for this lol. I hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> (Partially inspired by The Wicker Man, Silent Hill, and The Reaping.)

Dean Winchester enters his lonely apartment in the wee hours of the morning, whiskey on his breath with a mild headache forming. He places his keys in the bowl by the door as he toes off his boots near the mat.

He's tired, understandably so after working non-stop for 7 days straight. It's a wonder how he's still even functioning after all of it. But tonight, immediately after work, Dean went straight to the bar to drown away his insipid sorrows, and blather on and on to the bartender who would listen intently. His name is Ash, and Dean kinda sees him as a friend now.

Dean wiggles out of his coat, dropping it near his shoes haphazardly. He passes by a few pictures in frames, glancing at one of him, his father, his mother...and Sammy. Baby Sammy. There are hardly any recent pictures of Sam. Dean pushes it down when his head forces him to think of his little brother. His heart aches everytime.

Sam left him three years ago to go to college. He got away from their father who wanted them to be stuck under his authoritative thumb. On the night of his departure, Sam argued with his brother that he was John's puppet, doing everything and anything he commanded. In Sam's eyes, John didn't want sons, he wanted warriors...just like him.

At the time, Dean scoffed, but watched tearfully as Sam boarded the bus that would take him far away. Now John's dead, and Dean is alone with only himself and the occasional lady friend. It'll never fill the void in his heart that was once Sam's place. His brother, his special brother with crazy good intelligence and dry humor. Dean misses him like crazy, yet he's too much of a coward to visit him.

If he goes to California, what will he do when he sees him? What will he say?

_"Hey, Sammy, it's been a while since you kissed me."_

No.

_"Little brother, I think about you everytime I lay down at night."_

Nope.

_"I wanted to stop you from leaving, but I was so goddamn mad at you for even wanting to leave me. I'm still in love with you, Sammy..."_

No, no, _definitely_  not!

"Pathetic." Dean mumbles to himself.

He heads off into the kitchen with the intent to grab a beer. He looks to his right at the answering machine. The light is blinking red. New messages? Hmm. Dean makes a brief detour, pressing the button on the electronic device. The automated voice speaks to him, saying that there are three new massages for him. Dean plucks a beer from the fridge, popping the cap on the bottle.

_New Message: "Hi, Dean, it's Lisa. I haven't heard from you in a while, so I just thought I'd call and see how you were doing. So...that's it. Okay. Bye."_

Dean snorts, taking a swig from the bottle. Lisa. It's been a little bit under two weeks since they last saw each other. He thought he made it clear that he wasn't looking for anything big. Guess she didn't get the memo.

_New Message: "Hello, I'm calling for Dean Winchester. This is Oliver Queen, the guy you bumped into with your car last month. I tried calling your insurance company, but they said that they never even heard of you. Odd. Anyways, call me back once you get this message please. Thank you in advance."_

Rolling his eyes, Dean quickly downs the last of the beer in the bottle, tossing it in the garbage. There's no way in Hell he'd reach back out Oliver. It was his goddamn fault anyways! He stopped for no reason while he was on the phone driving. Fucking rich people. Dean prepares to the last one, betting it on a bill collector or something.

The final message, however, is not from a bill collector, but from his estranged brother, Sam. He sounds frightened, and he is clearly crying.

_New Message: "Dean? Dean, please answer, I need you to answer! They took me, and I'm pretty sure that--oh, my god, he's dead! Those bastards, they killed him! I found a phone, but they're looking for me. You have to come help me. Ebonpass. It's Ebonpass. No! Christ, No! Dean, they're gonna--" End of Messages; there are no New Messages._

The world stops for several moments as Dean tries to process exactly what he just heard. The way Sammy sounded on the phone--he's in trouble, _deep_  trouble judging by the urgency in his voice.

Dean just stares at the answering machine, horrified. He hasn't heard from his brother in a long time, and suddenly _this_  happens? It's fucked up, royally so. All Dean knows right now is that Sam needed him, and he wasn't there to pick up the goddamn phone. He slowly comes to his senses, snapping out of his stupor.

Sammy-- _his Sam_ \--is in trouble.

In a flash, Dean is standing in front of the machine. He cycles through the first two messages, listening intently to Sam's urgent words. It's hard to concentrate, what with Sam sounding utterly terrified of being caught. He says they took him, and that someone is dead. Who's dead? Where'd they take him? Who is _they_  in the first place?

Dean listens for keywords, only finding one of major import: Ebonpass. Whatever it is, it can't be too hard to look for.

They are the sons of a ruthless bounty hunter after all...

****

Ebonpass. Population: 1022. Located beyond the mountains of Colorado.

It only took Dean a few hours to trace. This place is fucking secluded; nearly no one has ever heard of it. It doesn't show up on any maps, and is completely shrouded when looked up through images from a satellite. It's almost as if someone doesn't want this place to be found. It certainly made Dean intrigued. Using his sleuthing skills on the internet, he discovered a way inside the town; a well concealed road.

Dean drives up on said road in his prized car, handed down to him by his father. The town comes into view soon enough, and Dean is pleasantly surprised. Everything seems normal here. Small shopping centers, a City Hall, a mechanic--Hell, even a school. For a shut off community, they look to be thriving. Dean drives down the main road, soon stopping in a parking lot near the town's diner.

He shuts off the engine, reaching over to the backseat for the flyers he made up last night. A missing persons flyer of Sam. Surely someone must've seen him. He's not exactly hard to miss. A smart kid with multi-colored eyes and a full head of silky, chestnut brown hair. His size may vary because of the last time he's seen him though. The damn kid was always growing like a weed.

Dean once again feels abnormally cold when he thinks of Sam. He's tried calling his cell, texting him, calling his school--nothing. They haven't seen him. It's like he disappeared from the face of the earth. No, Dean can't think like that. Sam's out there somewhere, scared and alone, and he's gonna find him. But first, he needs to figure out if anyone in this place knows something.

After grabbing the flyers, Dean gets out of the car, running his fingers through his hair. He looks around, spotting the townsfolk. They all cease in their activities to look at him. They stare expressionless, blank faces casted his way. An eerie, unsettling feeling creeps up Dean's spine. Their cold, pale gaze causes his heart to fall into his stomach. Yet just as soon as it happens, the citizens look away, going right back to their business.

Dean stands by his car, stuck in place much like the statue of a winged figure in the Town Square he passed on the way up here. What he just witnessed may be the single most terrifying fucking thing he has ever seen. They just...stared like they were looking into his soul. Dean shudders, shaking it off for now. Someone was bound to see something. He begins to briskly walk across the lot.

He approaches two women talking, both blonde with blue eyes and red lipstick. Housewives, he presumes. Dean shows them the flyer, speaking clearly. "Excuse me, have you seen him? He's my brother, and he's missing."

The women glance at the picture for a mere second before scoffing, and turning away from him. Dean, shocked, closes his mouth. That was pretty rude. Damn. He sighs, pushing down his anger. He turns around, seeing a mailman doing his job. Dean doesn't want to impose, but this is an emergency. Sam could be in serious danger. The only reason he didn't call the police was because their father always trained them to be faster, to sometimes take the law into their own hands.

So, Dean walks up to the mailman, flyer at the ready. He stops the man in uniform. "Excuse me, sir, this'll only take a moment. Have you seen this guy? He's my brother--"

"Hmph!" The mailman grunts, pushing past Dean in a hurry.

What the Hell is wrong with these people?

The utter disdain on these townsfolk's faces when they see him make Dean feel...well, not wanted. At all. Must be because he's not exactly from around here. Nonetheless, Dean is determined to find his brother. He attempts to talk to more of the townspeople, only to once again be rebuffed by them. Angry over being ignored, he begins plastering some of the flyers on buildings, telephone poles, and benches.

They all watch him, silently whispering among themselves. They're no goddamn help, all of them. When he's finished putting a few flyers up outside of the diner, he sets his eyes across the street at the tall, off-white church. From this distance, Dean can hear people inside singing the praises. Well, it _is_  Sunday after all. Curious, and certain that church going folks would help him, Dean crosses the road.

He comes before two large doors, and shoulders open the right one. Inside, he can hear better. There's a sermon it seems. Dean follows the sound of a man preaching passionately, and finds himself peering out from around the corner. He spots a man dressed in a black button up shirt and dark blue jeans, dark hair slicked black with stubble. His blue eyes flit around his flock as he talks to them.

Dean sucks in his breath, and enters only to sit in the row farthest from the action. He observes the man.

"The day is nearly upon us, my people! The day we kneel before our god, and pray for him to accept our gift--the deceiver will object. We must cast him out, give him up to our Lord! Then, and only then, will we be blessed."

The many people cheer for the preacher, shouting their prayers towards him. Dean is uncomfortable with this. He's never been a church kind of guy, and he doesn't intend on going any time soon. But he listens to this man, interest piqued.

"Fear not, for I will guide you all onto Salvation." The blue eyed preacher smiles, holding tightly to an old woman's hand. "Our God works through me, directing me to do his will. All will work out, everything will be just fine. The Lord loves us."

Dean squirms in his seat, frowning when he looks to the people. They close their eyes and bow their heads with the preacher as he leads them into a final prayer. He smiles at them all; they're wrapped around his finger. The preacher's gaze finally comes to rest on Dean. Their eyes lock, and the preacher becomes shocked for a moment...yet there's something else in those eyes of his.

A darkness, a secret. In an instant, he smiles warmly at Dean, and continues on with the prayer. It leaves the latter with a cold, empty feeling inside.

Eventually, the preacher finishes the final prayer. The congregation go up to hug and applaud him. Dean rises up out of his seat, preparing himself for the inevitable talk he'll have with the preacher. As the people leave, Dean hands out more flyers, showing them his little brother's face. Unlike the townsfolk outside, the people inside readily accept what he offers them. His hunch was right after all.

Once everyone leaves, Dean approaches the preacher who is expecting him. "Ah, it seems like we have an outsider in our midst."

"Yeah, I don't plan on staying long."

"I'm sure. Forgive me," the preacher sticks out his hand. "I am Father Castiel, but also Mayor James 'Jimmy' Novak besides. Welcome to Ebonpass."

Dean raises up his eyebrow in question. "So wait, you're a preacher and...the mayor?"

"I'm afraid that's correct. Is there something I can help you with, Mr...?"

Dean huffs at his own stupidity, grasping Castiel's firm hand. "Sorry, I'm having a rough day. Dean, Dean Winchester. I was wondering if you've seen this man. His name is Sam Winchester. He's my brother."

He soon shows Castiel one of the last flyers, examining the strange look on his face like he recognizes him. It's gone in a millisecond, replaced with an unsettling smile. "I'm sorry, I haven't. He must've been very special to you, Dean."

_Must've?_

"Must've?" Dean says aloud this time with a concerned frown.

Castiel chuckles, shaking his head. "I apologize. It's not normally in my nature to assume the worst. I do wonder, however, why this town was the first in your search for him. It must have been very hard to locate."

"I wondered why that is." Dean says. At his words, he notices Castiel's eyes, the concealed darkness within them. "I have my ways."

"I suppose you do, Mr. Winchester." The preacher replies, walking by the rows to collect the discarded bibles. "I have not seen your brother, but you are more than welcome to stay here until you find him. Ebonpass is a lovely place. Full of...mystery. You might find something interesting here."

"Thanks for the invitation."

Dean hands Castiel the flyer, giving him a tight lipped smile. He turns to leave soon enough; this place is one of the strangest places he's ever been to. As he gets down to the end of the aisle, he hears the preacher call out to him.

"Mr. Winchester? You may not want to hear this, but take heed: most people that are lost do not wish to be found. Have a nice day."

The preacher's ominous sentence manages to chill Dean's bones, and he only glances back at him before exiting the church entirely. Is he implying that Sam _doesn't want_  to be found? Jesus, what the fuck?

What's the deal with this damn town? Why is everyone acting like they can't be bothered with him? Why don't they seem to care that Sam is missing? Why are they like this!? Dean wants nothing more than to leave this weird town, but he can't, not until he finds Sammy.

He said Ebonpass _specifically._  Something strange is going on.

Dean walks outside, quickly going back to his car. He hops into the driver's seat, and shuts the door. He sits there, thinking about Sam, about his sixteenth birthday. It was any old boring day, just waking up to nothing. Dad was gone, off chasing after his latest mark; he often left them to their own devices for long periods of time. He wasn't the shining example of the best parental figure.

Still, Dean had spent all night setting up a surprise for Sam, getting everything into place. Sam came down the stairs, rubbing his eyes from his slumber to find a large banner with his name and the kitchen table full of awesome, homemade food. The look on Sam's beautiful face was worth it, and he ran to Dean. They embraced, and later that night, their closeness evolved.

It was their first kiss.

The splendid memory makes Dean feels warm and pleasant. He almost forgets that he's on a mission for a moment. He breaks away from his thoughts, and brings his keys to the ignition. Expecting to hear the roaring purr of his car's engine, Dean turns the key. However, the only thing he hears is pathetic sputtering. He raises up his eyebrows in question, only to try once more.

Again, the engine stutters. What the fuck? Dean exits the impala, popping open the hood of the car. He inspects the insides, and sees that his baby was indeed tampered with. It seems like someone was bashing on the damn thing with a blunt object. Dean slams the hatch down in anger, growling softly. He looks around, carefully scanning the townsfolk for the culprit. His eyes make their way across the street outside of the diner.

He notices three teenagers. Two laugh and point at him, and one begins tearing the flyers off the building, ripping Sam's picture to shreds. Suspecting that they're involved, Dean yells at them.

"Hey!" He shouts, slowly walking across the street. "Hey, you three!" The boys sense danger in being caught, and run off down the sidewalk. Dean gives chase, sprinting after them. "Stop! Get back here!"

The kids don't stop, and they show no signs of slowing down. The more they run, the more Dean starts to believe that they actually had something to do with his car. The delinquents rush off into an alley with Dean hot on their heels. The one closest to him trips, and he finally ceases him, gripping him by the collar of his shirt. The boy struggles, but he's no match for Dean.

"Did you fuck with my car, kid!?"

"Let me go! So what if I did?"

Dean snarls at him. "You little bastard!"

"Unhand me, outsider! Azazel's wrath with be upon you soon enough!"

Dean relaxes his grip on the teenager, confused.

"Azazel? What the...?"

"Hey, what's going on here?" A man's voice asks from the exit.

In shock, Dean accidentally releases the kid, and he scurries away towards the other end of the alley. Dean swears under his breath regretfully, and turns to meet the guy who allowed the son of a bitch to get away. He spots a lone man, one hand on the grip of his gun that rests in its holster, and one hand hanging to his side. Dean gets a clearer view when the man steps in.

He's a cop. The badge pinned to his tan shirt and sheriff's bomber jacket give him away instantly. Dean rolls his eyes, holding up his hands to show that he's not a threat.

"You let the real bad guy get away, sheriff." He snarks, scoffing.

The sheriff hums. "That so? Cause it looks to me like you were about to assault a child."

"That _child_  sabotaged my goddamn car!"

"Did you see him do it?"

What kind of shit is this!?

Dean gapes at the cop in disbelief. "Did I see--he and his friends ran away from me when I went to talk to them about it. I say that proves them to be a little guilty, wouldn't you agree, sheriff?"

The man in front of him smiles. His teeth are abnormally white, and he has pretty thick beard. His eyes--just like Father Castiel's--are pale blue and piercing. One has to take their time looking into them. So frightening. The sheriff takes his hand off of his gun.

"I suppose it does. You must be the outsider everyone's been talking about. I'm Sheriff Benny Lafitte."

"Dean. Are you gonna go after him?"

"Of course I am," Benny says with a playful edge. "He's the town troublemaker. Gabriel, the mayor's youngest brother. Misguided soul. I'll deal with him. Meanwhile, I can take you to the motel while I get someone to work on your car."

"No, that's not necessary, I can do it myself--"

"No, you're a guest here, Dean." Benny assures. "We got you covered, okay? It'll be up and running in no time. Come on, let's go."

Dean doesn't argue with Benny for two simple reasons.

One: Benny is the sheriff. His word is literally law.

Two: Even if he _did_  argue, Benny would counter his argument with more small town hospitality bullshit.

There is one thing Dean is certain about, however. Benny is more welcoming than the others he has met so far, including the vague, creepy preacher/mayor. Dean still can't quite wrap his head around that concept. Father Castiel must be a very busy man to be able to juggle two jobs in one.

Nonetheless, Dean follows Benny out of the alley, and they hike back to his car to collect his belongings. Before he can forget, Dean takes a flyer from the backseat before opening up the trunk to grab his bags. He turns to Benny, holding out the flyer for him to take.

"I don't know why I didn't think of this earlier, but maybe you can help me since you're a cop. My brother is missing, and I think he might've been here. Recognize him?"

As with all others, Dean analyzes Benny's face for something, some kind of hint of recognition--anything! And just like the preacher, he spots it, the glancing familiarity he has with the picture. Yet again, another denies ever seeing Sam, but Dean can see otherwise. While Castiel was more subtle, Benny had a nervous edge. He knows something, something huge.

And Dean's not leaving until he figures this out.

****

"Here we are," Benny says as he drives up to the motel. "This is the place."

Dean grabs his things, hopping out of the car. "Thanks."

He sighs, but just as he attempts to go inside to check in, Benny garners his attention once again. The sheriff exits his vehicle, yet he doesn't approach Dean. He just stands next to the car. "Dean?"

"Yeah, sheriff?"

"About...about Sam..."

Dean frowns. "What about him?"

"Well, I..." Benny mutters. He scratches his beard, trying to find the words. Dean waits patiently for him to finish. If it's about Sam, he needs to know! Finally, Benny just shakes his head. "Nothing. I just hope you locate him. Be careful, Dean. Try not to stay out too late after dark. Please."

"What happens after dark?" Dean asks.

It's asked in a joking manner, but Benny's answer is serious. He gets back into the car, looking at Dean through the rolled down windows.

"If you want the chance to find your brother, Mr. Winchester, stay indoors. Have a good night."

With those words, Sheriff Lafitte pulls out of the lot, and drives back into town leaving Dean alone. That cop is giving off some strange vibes, just like the other damn people in this odd place. He shuffles into the motel lobby, and speaks with the person at the counter. He's an elderly man with thick, square glasses. His shirt is tucked in, and the poor man hunches.

It's not a good idea for such old man to be on his feet like this. The man looks up at Dean, adjusting his glasses, and just like everyone else so far, he rudely asks what he wants. Despite Dean's urge to yell, to kick the desk, to scream, to throw things, he remains absolutely calm. He politely asks for a room, and the old man grudgingly obliges. When the old man asks for payment, Dean looks at the prices, and it becomes glaringly obvious that he is being charged more than what is being offered.

$100 more, to be exact.

In the end, Dean pays for the room, and hauls himself and his belongings with him. For hours, Dean sits up in the bed against the headboard, legs and arms crossed. He stares at the movie playing on the television, some kind of western. Normally, he'd be all into it, but not right now.

Right now, all Dean's imagining is the times he and Sam used to sit by the TV in shabby motels like this, just waiting for their father to come back from one of his jobs. John often took them with him; his way of teaching them how to nab the bad guys. Regardless, when the time came to grab the guy, John always left them behind to fend for themselves.

And that they did.

_"Sammy," Dean chuckled, mussing up his brother's hair. "You're growing like crazy. Next time I blink, you're gonna be a sasquatch!"_

_Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, but smiled anyway. He put his head on his shoulder back then, closing his eyes. "Yeah, maybe I'll finally get to kick your ass."_

_"Hah! You wish..."_

Dean chuckles to himself, touching his necklace. It's a small, golden amulet attached to a black cord. The amulet is a tribal head; its origin is unknown to him. All he truly knows is that Sam originally bought it for their father, but deemed his older brother much more worthy for it.

As Dean drifts down memory lane, he begins to feel an unusual chill in the air. It creeps down his spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The desk lamp next to him flickers for a brief second, and the television's picture distorts. During all of this, Dean hears something outside of his room, something very odd.

The sound of nails (a dog perhaps?) tapping on concrete. It slowly walks pasts Dean's door, but at the last second, it doubles back. On the other side, Dean once again hears something strange. Soft growling from no animal he's ever heard before. He listens closely, hearing the animal _clawing_  at the door.

Dean recoils, reaching for his bag for his handgun. That didn't sound like a the clawing of a normal animal. He pulls the hammer back on the pistol, and the clawing stops almost immediately. The tapping of nails against the concrete fade away as the animal decides to take its leave. Dean, nevertheless, stands, slowly approaching the door. With his right hand gripping the gun tightly, he uses his left hand to swing open the door.

As expected, nothing appears on the other side. Dean looks around the environment, spotting no animals or humans in the night. He does look at the door from the outside, seeing a series of scratches all along the length. Long, thin claw marks engraved into the wood. Spooked, Dean closes the door again, locking it.

"What the Hell...?" He whispers to the air.

Fear and confusion attack Dean's mind as he sits on the edge of the queen sized bed. What's happening to him? Is he going insane?

Jesus.


	2. Azazel's Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean discovers the truth about the town of Ebonpass.

The next day, Dean hikes back into town, determined to pick up where he left off. He carries his remaining flyers in his bag, noting that some--if not most--of the ones he out up yesterday have been taken down, or defaced. He hopes that Benny got that snot nosed little bastard Gabriel. To think someone could be so cruel as to laugh or scoff at someone who is looking for a lost loved one.

Where is the humanity? What are they teaching these kids here?

Dean's first stop of the day is the diner. He sits at the counter, drinking coffee, and checking the news on his smartphone. There's hardly any reception up here, but with the little Dean has, he makes use of it. He tried calling Sam's school again this morning, but they were certain he had not returned to school.

Strange things are happening here.

Before he's even aware of it, Father Castiel enters the diner, only to sit beside him. Dean looks up from his phone, uncomfortable with the way this man is smiling at him. Dean can smell his cologne from this distance; that too is quite unpleasant.

"Ah, Mr. Winchester. I see you're up and about early."

Dean nods, scooting over to provide more distance between them. "Uh--Yeah. Yeah, I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Oh? Did you see something frightening?"

"I'm sorry?"

Castiel chuckles. "What I meant was, 'Did you have nightmares?'"

"I..." Dean takes a moment to drink his coffee. He hums as the warm liquid slides down his throat into his belly. "I, um...I had a pretty weird dream. I'm fine though. Everything's fine."

"I'm glad, Dean," the preacher touches his shoulder fondly, an act that Dean is greatly against. He doesn't shake off his shoulder, only glancing blankly at Castiel. "It's strange how our eyes and our minds confuse us, make us see things we wouldn't want to see." His words are ominous, which does not surprise Dean yet again. Castiel rises from his seat, giving Dean's shoulder a good squeeze. "Well, I must be off; I only came here to see you." Before Dean can ask how he knew his location, Castiel smiles. "I have eyes and ears everywhere. I wish you luck on your search."

"Yeah...thanks."

"I'll pray for you, Dean, and your brother as well."

The preacher leaves the establishment then. Dean sighs heavily, downing his coffee with one great swallow. He's said it once, but he'll say it again: this town is fucking weird! The civilians glare at him like they want him to burst into flames, and the shop owners give him a hard time. Dean wants to leave this place as soon as possible, but not without Sam.

Sam named this place for a _reason,_  and it's Dean's job to find him, it's his job to look out for him, and he could be in danger right now. Dean has to find him. He owes Sam this much.

****

"Excuse me, have you seen him?"

Nope.

"Excuse me, sir, have you seen him?"

No.

"Miss, please. This is my brother. Have you seen him?"

A simple glance, and a shrug.

"Sir, I don't wanna take up much of your time, but take a look at this, please. That's Sam, he's missing. Has he been around these parts recently?"

Just a glare.

Dean watches in anger as another individual passes by him. He grunts, punching a solid brick wall. The force of the punch isn't much, but it's enough to break the skin on his knuckles. With his adrenaline pumping, Dean hardly feels the pain, but he will soon, he knows that. His nostrils flare, and he pointedly ignores the men and women looking at him.

He's like a fucking circus act for them, bumbling around like an idiot. They don't seem to care about nothing but Father Castiel, each other, and the church. It's almost as if they view outsider and outside events as beneath them. These people are completely cut off from the rest of the world. It's a little sad, though Dean has no real sympathy for them. Why should he have any? They've been nothing but dicks since he got here.

He walks down the sidewalk, clutching his bruised and bleeding hand. Dean looks down at his shoes for a moment, seeing that the lace in his right boot has come undone. Great. Just his luck. Dean bends down on one knee, attempting to tie his laces the best he can with his hand. However, as he does this, another odd event happens. It's spontaneous, completely out of the blue.

There's a man across the street, coming out of a hardware store, shouting, and pointing at Dean.

"There is an outsider among us! A man that comes from a world outside of our own haven, a world full of treachery and deceit!"

Dean stands up quickly, observering the man's tirade with the rest of the townsfolk that has gathered around him. He finally notices what the man carried out with him. A canister full of gasoline. _Now, just what in the fuck is he gonna do with that,_  Dean wonders in his head. Even while pondering, he still watches.

"The outsider aims to destroy our way of life!" The man screams. "He aims to take away our very essence! We must not let that happen! We must cast him out, make him flee! And to do that..."

The man stops a moment, raising the canister high. He dumps the gasoline all over himself, and the people begin to move away, scattering and mumbling. Dean moves back as well, eyes widening the more this man does whatever it is he's doing. When he makes sure he's completely drenched, the man pulls out a lighter, and his intentions become clear. He smiles.

"We must take drastic measures. Glory to Azazel, our savior!"

The man ignites the lighter with flick of his thumb. A small flame erupts from the contraption, and it quickly spreads until his entire body is engulfed. The man screams in agony as he's set ablaze, running through the streets. The townsfolk shout as well, crying and trying to get away from the crazed man on fire. Dean stumbles back on the concrete, landing on his ass. Completely stunned by the man's actions, all he can do is stare at everyone running, screaming at the top of their lungs.

He doesn't even notice when he's being helped up by police officers, only to be escorted towards City Hall.

****

"I am terribly sorry you had to experience that, Mr. Winchester. You have my deepest apologies. The man you encountered today was Alastair. We have had incidents with him in the past. He was a very unstable man, but very devout. Now, Dean, I do not want his actions to drive you away from your search, but it is quite understandable if you do..."

Dean can hear Castiel making words, but the rest is immediately drowned out. He sits opposite from him in the Mayor's grand office, staring blankly at the rug carpet under his boots. It's impossible to think clearly after that horrific incident he just witnessed.

All Dean can see are flames.

All Dean can hear are screams.

All Dean can smell is burnt flesh.

He's seen some pretty fucked up shit in his lifetime, but that just about takes the cake on everything thus far. His knee begins to bound up and down inadvertently, unable to properly contain the stress inside of his body.

That man--that Alastair guy called out a name. Azazel. Castiel's little brother did the same thing yesterday. Glory to Azazel? Who the Hell is that? He's not sure, but he thinks it might be another name for God. He's never heard of it though, but what else could it be? Sounds ancient, and the way Alastair said it...well, he made it seem like...whatever. It doesn't seem to matter anymore. Dean travels back to reality, catching the end of Castiel's speech.

"...again, I apologize, and might I add that we have never--"

"Was my brother here, Father Castiel?" Dean interrupts, finally staring at him.

Castiel blinks several times, seemingly put off by the question. "Excuse me?"

"My brother. Sam. Was he ever in this town? You know," Dean stands up, enraged by everything that has happened so far. "Ever since I've gotten to your town, I've been ignored, laughed at, or made fun of."

"Mr. Winchester, please, sit down. You are in shock."

"Goddammit, I'm not in shock, I just wanna find my brother! Was he here or not!?"

A tense staredown begins; Castiel's piercing blue eyes burning holes through Dean's tattered soul. The preacher stands, putting both hands on his desk. "You look a little pale. Perhaps you should let Sheriff Lafitte drive back to the motel to get some rest."

Those words only infuriate Dean more. He growls, storming out of the office in a huge huff. He brushes past the Sheriff on his way out, throwing over his shoulder, "I'll be back with more experienced men who take the job seriously!"

Dean stomps away, walking heatedly down the road that leads back to the motel. Benny watches the desperate and scared man rush off. He feels sympathy for him despite his position in this town. It's becoming a heavy burden on his conscience. He can't even count on both hands and feet how many young, innocent souls have come here begging for answers.

Benny grumbles a small obscenity under his breath as he walks into the Mayor's office unannounced. Castiel looks up at him in surprise, smile unwelcoming, yet still eerily pleasant.

"I believe Dean Winchester to be a problem."

"They all were," Benny breathes. "But he's different. He's...different."

"Oh, yes, I'm well aware." Castiel scoffs. "So far there have been two incidents since his arrival. Old Man Sanders called me this morning from the motel. There were markings outside of Dean Winchester's door, and now this? Alastair was a good man, but a fool; too easily spooked. We cannot allow another incident to happen before the Ceremony."

"What do you propose?"

Castiel grabs a letter opener, and stabs it into the center of his desk. Benny flinches a little, but remains mostly unfazed. The preacher and mayor of Ebonpass grins. "We've never strayed from the path before, why stop now? Should he make it back with more outsiders, we're finished. Do what you can."

Benny swallows hard. "Sir, can we think about this, please? I just...It is getting--"

"Your guilt weighs heavily upon you, my friend," Castiel coos, picking up the letter opener. He waltzes toward the sheriff, holding the tool to his throat. "You're weak. You've always been weak. If you weren't such a good cop I would have disposed of you long ago, but you're powerful, stronger than anyone here. You will do this for me--for your town, or you will join his fate. Have I made myself clear, sheriff?"

"Yes--Yes, sir."

"Good. Run along. I must prepare for tonight. Everything has to be perfect."

Benny is soon dismissed, and Castiel returns to his paperwork and other mayoral duties. He shuts the door on his way out, slowly walking towards the entrance to the building. Before leaving, he grabs a brochure, ripping it in half. Lastly, he takes a pen, and begins to write before leaving City Hall to chase after Dean.

He makes it halfway down the sidewalk when he spots the outsider, still rushing back towards the motel. Benny shakes his head, sprinting to catch up with him.

"Hey, Winchester!" Benny calls, yards away from him.

Dean turns around at the mention of his name, rolling his eyes when he sees him. "What? Here to discourage me from coming back with real help? Sorry, that's not gonna work."

"Just listen, okay?"

"Oh, now people want to listen to what I have to say!? No. This town is fucked, and I'm gonna get Sam back one way or another."

Benny finally catches up with Dean, standing in front of him to block his way. He looks around nervously, clutching the note in his hand. "Yeah? Well, go ahead! Try!"

People begin to watch the exchange. Good. This is good.

"Look, man, nothing is gonna stop me. A man set himself on fire in front of me! You're wasting your time!"

"Well, you know what? It's been a pleasure working with you, Mr. Winchester." Benny forcefully takes Dean's hand, and discreetly drops the note into his palm. He proceeds to walk back to the office, heart hammering in his chest. "Enjoy the rest of your stay."

Dean looks on confused as the sheriff shuffles away, sighing. That was...odd. The townsfolk all go about their day as if nothing happened, and Dean chances a look at the note as he walks forward. His heart almost stops completely as he reads the hastily written words on the ripped brochure.

_Sam is here. Both in danger. Meet up before 8. My house. 1254 Providence._

Dean looks back, only to see that Benny is long gone. This whole time...the entire fucking time Sam was in this shithole town! That's why no one would say anything to him! That's why everyone's been giving him the goddamn runaround! Sam is here in Ebonpass, presumably against his will. The only question remains is the why.

 _Why_  is Sam being held here?

Dean crumbles up the note, putting it in his pocket for safe keeping. This circus act ends tonight.

****

It's 7:45.

The sun is about to set, yet Dean makes his way to Benny's address. It seems like, out of everyone in this piece of shit town, Benny is the only one Dean can actually trust. He must have had a change of heart or something to give Dean a push in the right direction. He has a lot of questions, and he's hoping that a few of them can be answered before the big rescue.

Eventually, Dean walks up the stone path to the sheriff's house. It's looks to have one floor, and is very sizeable. Dean remembers living in a house like this growing up, one of many houses that was left behind. He and Sam had no stability, moving around and around and around, but at least they had each other. That was home to them, their true home.

Just as Dean tries to knock on the front door, he notices that it is cracked open just a bit, lock broken. Sensing something off, Dean glances around him, looking for any type of suspicious activity. He takes a deep breath, and pushes the wood of the door to open it all the way. The young man steps inside carefully.

"Sheriff Lafitte?" He calls, receiving no answer in return. Dean shuts the door, walking silently into the living room. Benny's home is comfortable, and smells of flowers, some kind of vanilla...and something else, something foul. "Benny, are you home?"

Dean stops by the fireplace, and notices a few pictures sitting nearly on top. He picks one up, inspecting it. Old photos of Benny hugging a woman and a little girl. A wife and daughter perhaps? Where could they be? Dean sets the picture frame down, and picks up another. This one is of Father Castiel and Benny with other townsfolk Dean has encountered. They seem to be celebrating in some type of festival carrying torches and rifles.

For some reason, this chills Dean's blood. He puts the photo back, and resumes his search for Benny. He sighs, headed for the kitchen, crossing the threshold.

"Sheriff Lafitte, it's Dean Winchester. I got your message--"

Dean stops in his tracks, looking down at the blood pooling around the sheriff. Benny's been hurt severely. He lies in the crimson liquid, still, unmoving on his back. Without thinking, Dean drops to the floor with him, panicking. He checks over the sheriff's injuries, seeing that he has three good stab wounds to his chest and abdomen.

This is bad.

This is _very_  bad.

Shit! Fuck!

Time slows down as the blood soaks into the knees of Dean's dark blue jeans. It's all so fucking horrific, so traumatizing. Two deaths in one day is enough for Dean. He's never had to go through this before. Sam's disappearance, rude townsfolk, shady mayors, immolation, and now straight up murder. Someone wanted Benny dead...or wanted him to shut his mouth.

Suddenly, Benny gasps for air, coughing up bubbles of blood. Dean is on the job right away, applying pressure over his grievous wounds. Dean grits his teeth; Benny's blood stain his hands. Their eyes lock, and Benny speaks, albeit weakly.

"They...finally got me."

"Hey," Dean says. "Hey, stay with me. I need you to hold in, okay? Tell me what I need to know. Who tried to kill you? What's going on in this town? Where's Sam?"

Benny grunts, heaving. "They're gonna kill Sam...just like they killed my little girl. You have to stop them, promise me you'll stop them..."

"I will, I promise. Come on--Benny, please, tell me where Sam is."

"Mayor's...office..."

With a soft sigh, Benny's head falls to the side, and his wide eyes expel small tears. Dean clenches his jaw, nudging the sheriff slightly. He doesn't move. It's in vain, really. Dean knew he was gone the moment the tears fell. Benny is dead, killed by people who want to kill Sam as well. Not on his watch.

Outside, Dean begins hearing sirens. Police! Maybe they can help him. He manages to stand up, nearly slipping over the blood on the polished tile floor. Dazed, Dean rushes outside, signaling for the squad cars. He flags them down; about two cars. Dean waves his arms in the air as four officers--two from each car--exit their vehicles. He begs for help.

"Help, please! The sheriff is dead, you have to--"

"Get on the ground, and get your hands in the air!" They yell at him, drawing their pistols.

Dean's jaw drops. He can't _believe_  this! Are they seriously treating him like some kind of fucking criminal!? He tries again, ignoring their commands.

"Listen to me! The sheriff is in the house--"

An officer fires a warning shot at Dean's feet, making him jump up in surprise. "I said get on the ground, and put your goddamn hands in the air, outsider!"

Alas, there is nothing Dean can do in this moment besides obey. If he is told a second time, he will undoubtedly be shot. If he attempts to flee, he will be shot. If he speaks to them again, he will be shot. There is no winning this game, not right now. So, Dean drops to his knees, surrendering if only to give Sammy more time.

The officers arrest Dean, dumping him in the back of the squad car in handcuffs. He doesn't struggle, nor does he try to run.

He stays silent, pondering in his fate.

****

It's 11 at night, and Dean paces his cell for the millionth time.

The guard won't let him call anyone, and he ignores him everytime he asks for Father Castiel. Something sinister is going on in this town, and he's gotta get to the Mayor's office some kind of way. Benny mentioned the place in response to Sam's whereabouts. It must be where he is. Dean feels like a fool.

These people have been throwing him in an endless loop, pretending that he was crazy, that he was deranged. They turned him around, but they were unsuccessful. Now that Dean knows Sam is truly in this town, he's gonna try everything in his power to get them out of here together. But first thing's first: Dean has to figure out how to get out of this fucking cell.

Soon, another person enters the holding area. Dean looks up, seeing who it is.

It's none other than the snake himself, Father Castiel. The preacher walks inside, seemingly dressed for a sermon. Dean frowns. He isn't always in this get up. What's going on? Castiel stops by his cell, smirking deviously. Dean takes a step back; anything to keep that man as far away from him as possible. The preacher clicks his tongue in a patronizing manner.

"Oh, Dean. Lovely, Dean. Why did you have to go and kill my sheriff? He was such a great man, what has he ever done to you?"

"Bullshit!" Dean yells. "I didn't kill him, and you know that!" For a moment, Dean calls down, curling his hands into fists. "What's with the getup? Preaching the good word late tonight?"

Castiel chuckles. "Something like that. A little ceremony for the town, a celebration of its history. And guess who's invited? Why, your very own brother, Sammy."

Dean's heart stops. Rage bubbles up inside of him, and he lashes out, rushing up to grab at the metal bars that separate the two of them.

"You son of a bitch, you lied! You had Sam in your possession this entire time. Why!? Why is he so goddamn important to you!? Why him!?"

"Why him?" Castiel parrots, leaning back against the wall behind him, looking straight at Dean. "Ah, see, that there's the real question. What do I want with Samuel Winchester. To understand that, you'll need a little lesson in the town's history. You see, this town was formed by the minds of great men and women, people with extraordinary talents. 'Psychics', I'm sure is a term you outsiders are familiar with. They built this town, only to fall under the gaze of a powerful god. Azazel."

There it is again. That name. Azazel.  Dean frowns, unsure why he's still listening to this nonsense. Castiel continues.

"He is an ancient god, one of the oldest ones; the most feared, the most powerful. He sought to control them, to bend them to his will. Like the foolish beings they were, the Psychics attempted to overthrow Azazel, only to fall miserably. He destroyed half the town, and for their insolence, he ordered that every five years, they were to offer up a person of extraordinary talents to him. If they failed to deliver on time, he would kill every citizen there, burning the town ground. After the Psychics were wiped out in the town, Azazel offered information on outsiders. The ceremony is fast approaching, and your brother was the first on his list. Powerful, godlike. He doesn't even know it. Untapped potential that will never see the light of day."

Dean listens, remembering Benny's last words.

_"They're gonna kill Sam...just like they killed my little girl."_

Castiel sacrificed Benny's daughter, much like how he plans to sacrifice Sam. The story is too much for Dean to bear, and he slams his hands on the bars again, growling.

"You're fucking insane! You people have lost your minds! There's no such things as gods, and--and Psychics, and--this just doesn't make sense! Let me out of here! Let me out of here, or I swear--!"

"What will you do, Dean? Scream?" Castiel taunts. "Shout? Thrash around? You're in no position to do anything. In fact...I believe we'll turn you over to the outside authorities once the ceremony is complete. I'm sure they'll see to it that you gain the warmest padded cell."

Dean knits his brows together in confusion. "Wait, what?"

"It must have been horrible being neglected as a child, always taking care of Sam, always watching after him. You must've resented him quite a bit. You started drinking, engaging in questionable activities to sate your appetite for violence. And then, one night, you just snapped. You stole Sam away from his college, murdered his friend, then killed Sam. You proceeded to terrorize an innocent town, killing two others along the way until apprehended." The preacher smirks again, pushing himself off the wall. He begins walking towards the door. "How's that story sound?"

No...

No!

"You can't!" Dean screams, rattling around like a rat in a cage. He tries shaking the bars, but nothing happens. "You can't do this! Let me out, you motherfucker, I'll rip your fucking lungs out!"

"I must prepare. The sacrifice cannot be stalled past midnight. See you later, Dean. Welcome to Ebonpass."

Castiel leaves, and it's just Dean and the guard again. He doesn't stop in his tantrum, kicking and screaming. The guard even threatens to taze him if he doesn't behave. What's the point? His brother is going to be ritually sacrificed to a "god", and all he can do about it is sit in a stupid jail cell!

It's hopeless, simply hopeless. After twenty minutes of nonstop screaming and banging, Dean finally gives up. He slides down the side of the wall until all that's left is to reminisce on happier times. He thinks of his earliest memory of their once awesome family. Dean was four, Sam was six months old, and their parents were extremely in love with one another.

He fast forwards a few years after that. Sam was thirteen, coming home with black eyes and bloody noses. Bullies. Dean scared them away the next day, protecting Sammy from further torment. Sam hugged him tight, thanking him. He moves onto the next memory.

Sam was eighteen, just hitting his growth spurt. It was hard going to to toe with Sam in a one on one sparring match, but Dean somehow made it out okay. They had begun sleeping together behind their father's back, whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears in the dark.

Dean inadvertently thinks of the night Sam left, how he begged him to stay, how Sam cried because, goddammit, it was the hardest thing he ever had to do. Of course, he asked Dean to come with him, but Dean was stubborn. He couldn't leave their father. That was the last time they ever saw each other.

_"Dean..."_

Dean raises his head in a flash, looking around the cell. He heard a voice. _Sam's_  voice. He whispers Sam's name, but nothing more is heard besides the quiet sounds of the guards radio, and the ticking of the clock on the wall. Dean glances up at it. It's 11:35. Won't be long now. It won't be long...

It can't end like this.

He still loves Sam.

Sam still loves him.

He's counting on him.

So, the elder Winchester brother rises to his feet, new plan set in place. He slams his hand on the bars, gaining the guard's attention. "Hey, asshole. Turn that shit off. It's pissing me off."

The guard huffs angrily, turning to him. "Shut up, outsider, or I'll shut you up my damn self."

"Do it, pig. I'd like to see you try."

The guard accepts the challenge, and gets up out of his seat like a man possessed. Dean watches as he grabs his stun gun. He walks towards the cell, inching closer to the bars. The stupid guard sticks his hand inside, attempting to zap Dean, but Dean is quicker. He moves to the right in time, taking the taser for himself.

He breaks the guards arm, and knocks him out by slamming his head against the cell bars. The guard falls down on the floor, very much unconscious. Luckily, the keys to get out of here are right there on his belt. Dean bends down, finally grabbing the keys. He tries out each one on the door, sighing in relief when the last key unlocks the cell. Once he's out, he takes the guard's gun, and runs outside through the back.

Dean sneaks off into town, evading shops, houses, and street patrols. He sprints through the neighborhood towards the Mayor's office. It's not too late. He still has time to save Sam, to save his Sammy from the evil of this town.

 _"Dean...help me..._ _"_

It's Sam's voice again in his head. He sounds weak, and exhausted.

"How is this possible?" Dean asks no one in particular, continuing on in his quest.

After running what felt like miles, Dean finally comes into view of the Town Square that connects the church and City Hall. In the middle of it all is the statue of a winged figure holding up a clock. There's still plenty of time to do this. Yet, as Dean begins to make his way towards City Hall, he sees something horrifying, something that people only see in nightmares.

Three strange creatures come out of the darkness. Skinny monsters with bright, red eyes and large mouths with many rows of sharp teeth. They're extremely thin with pale, leathery skin, and their nails are like serrated blades. Dean thinks back on the the night he arrived here, the clawing at his door. It was them. These creatures.

They growl at him, blocking the way towards City Hall. Dean theorizes that these beasts--these monsters must be Azazel's mutts, his "guard dogs" in a sense. Benny's rule about going out after dark makes much more sense now, though the situation still has Dean questioning his sanity; what is truly real, and what us fantasy? It looks like these things are real, and they want to stop him.

Dean checks the magazine on the pistol before pulling the slide back. Sixteen bullets. Better make 'em count. He doesn't even know if these things are bulletproof, but if they aren't, then good. Finally, Dean gathers the courage within himself to sprint toward, running dead ahead into the horrific creatures. The beasts run at him too, closing the distance.

At the last second, on of them jump at him, and he slides on the grass under it, firing above him. The bullets pierce the skin, and the monster falls on the lawn, dead. The other two beasts are not too far behind. Dean stands up rushing off to the side. He hops over a bench, using his toward momentum to run even faster. One of those "Demons" also jump over the bench, but Dean is quick. He puts a bullet between its eyes, and it slumps down onto the bench.

The last one surprises him. The creature tackles Dean, pinning him to the moist grass. It snaps its jaws at his face after it cuts his leg; he holds its head back with his hands. The gun scatters away to the side of him as he struggles to survive. In his head, he can hear the sobs of his little brother begging him to save him, to help him. It fuels Dean's desire to make it out alive with them both, and he fights back, giving the Demon a solid right hook before quickly grabbing the gun once again.

As the creature returns to assault him, Dean puts the gun to the side of its head, pulling the trigger three times. The beast's blood gets all over his clothes and face, and he shrieks. He wiggles out from the dead Demon's body to stand, and desperately wipes his face clean as best he can with the inside of his shirt. Dean limps onwards into City Hall, opening and closing the doors behind him.

There's no one here, but the lights are all on. Dean just resumes to go forward, not even letting the harsh pain in his leg stop him from his ultimate goal. In a matter of a minute, he kicks open the door to the Mayor's office with his good leg, aiming around the room with the gun. It's clear as well. Dean begins searching, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. Just a desk, a coatrack, a water cooler, and a bookcase that--

Wait. The bookcase.

Dean rushes over to the bookcase, pulling out every book from all shelves. If he's right about this, then there should be a hidden switch here. As he removes a thick, black book about the history of the town, Dean spots a small, red button engraved into the bookcase. Without hesitation, he pushes it. Mechanical whirling is heard, and the bookcase slides off to the side, revealing a smaller, concealed room.

The light flickers on, and Dean looks inside. He drops the gun, and tears pool in his deep sea green eyes. He sinks to his knees, gazing emotionally at his younger brother, tied up, gagged and beaten, yet still alive. Sam's eyes flutter open, and when he finally sees Dean, he hums weakly in happiness and relief. Dean shakes himself out of the daze to tears off his binds. He takes his gag off last, seeing that Sam's lips are chapped and cracked.

He looks like absolute Hell, but he's grown up so much since they've last seen each other. Dean caresses Sam's cheek with his hand, and Sam leans into the touch, much like he used to do when they were younger. They both cry freely this time, embracing one another.

"You came looking for me..." Sam whispers, clinging to Dean's shirt.

"Yeah, Sammy. I did. I found you. I had to. What happened?"

"I was..." Sam sniffles. "I was out getting food with my roommate Brady, and it was dark and raining, and we stopped for gas...and they just...they came out of nowhere, Dean. They killed Brady, and they took me. That preacher told me I was important. I escaped once just to call you. They wanna sacrifice me to their god. This is so fucked up..."

Dean nods, smoothing back Sam's hair. He looks him in the eye, still amazed at how much he's grown. "That's not even the worst part. The whole town is evil. We gotta move. Can you stand?"

"Yeah...I think so. You're bleeding."

"I'll live."

Sam smiles, but it's weak. "Thank you for coming to get me."

Dean stands up, helping Sam to his feet. "Always. I let you go once, I'm not gonna do it again."

Sam says nothing, but he looks at Dean's chest, noticing that he still wears the necklace he got for him so long ago. They leave the office together; Sam helps Dean walk by putting his arm around his shoulder, and his hand on his waist. Sam is so tall now, only inches above Dean, and he's gotten a little solid too. If they make it out of this, Dean's gonna have to spend some time getting "reacquainted" with Sam.

They open the doors, expecting to be in the clear. However, fate shits in Dean's meal once again. On the other side of the doors, all in the Town Square, are the townsfolk with torches and rifles and pitchforks accompanied by many more of those Demon things. Leading the charge in the front is Father Castiel, brandishing a rifle and sneering heatedly at Sam and Dean both.

Shit.

"Many outsiders have come to this place, Dean Winchester, but none have ever come this far. You continue to impress and annoy me in ways you cannot possibly imagine."

Dean returns the glare, but it is Sam that speaks next. "Let us go. Please. It doesn't have to be this way."

"It does! It has to, because with your death, we are ensured everlasting peace and prosperity! Azazel protects us from all harm. We worship him, we love him! Without him, we are nothing. Your blood must be spilt."

Dean looks at the clock on the statue.

11:59.

Still time! He has to stall for two more minutes. If that happened then...maybe the contract will be broken. Every sacrifice has to be by midnight. He can use this to his advantage.

"This ceremony is cruel and barbaric!" Dean shouts at Castiel and the townsfolk. "You kidnap innocent men, women, and children, and mercilessly murder them to appease your bloodthirsty god! You killed Benny Lafitte's daughter, you killed a little girl!"

"Azazel wanted her soul," Castiel grunts, trying to justify his actions. "So we delivered her onto him. We sacrifice the few so the many survive. This is how it's always been, and it's how it will forever be. Azazel has marked Samuel, and he will die here tonight."

"No, he's not dying anytime soon, and if I were you, Father Castiel," Dean smirks to him as the clock strikes twelve, signaling all of the townsfolk to look at the time. Midnight. "I'd watch your back."

The look on the preacher's face is priceless. He turns red in seconds, fuming menacingly. With a growl, he prepares his rifle, aiming it directly at Dean. Sam, however, steps in at the last second as Castiel pulls the trigger.

"No!" He shouts, throwing himself in front of Dean.

They both shut their eyes, awaiting the immediate end. Yet after several seconds of _nothing,_  Sam opens his eyes again. Dean does the same, witnessing the impossible. The high caliber round destined to kill him floats seamlessly in front of Sam's face. Dean's mouth hangs ajar. It's true. It really is true. Sam was a Psychic the whole time. Castiel was telling the truth, and now Sam has unlocked his power.

The bullet falls, and the crowd gasps in fear. Sam swallows the spit in his throat, and focuses hard on the man next to Castiel, a man with a torch. With a slight nudge, he causes the flame from the torch to consume the man holding it. The man is caught off guard, and falls to the ground screaming. Castiel recoils, stunned by Sam's destructive power. Dean is as well, observing curiously as Sam tends off an attack against them.

With a mere thought, he deflects bullets, causes fires, and kills many of the townspeople. Sam seems so calm doing it too, like his brain is own autopilot. The civilians, however, plan a counterattack, and advance on them. They corner Sam and Dean against City Hall, but then, out of the blue, another extraordinary thing happens. The sky opens up, and lightning strikes all around. Dean looks back to the clock.

It's 12:01.

The lightning strikes faster, and a deep, ethereal voice is heard from the heavens.

_"People of Ebonpass, your contract has been broken. You are no longer under my protection as you have failed to uphold your end of our arrangement. The process of collecting your souls begins now."_

Without warning, the Demons turn on the townsfolk, slaughtering them, ripping into them like the savage beasts they are. At the same time, lightning from above comes down upon them, vaporizing them, reducing the evil bastards to ash. Dean grabs onto Sam, bringing him to the ground to wait it out. They try not to look at the destruction going on around them, but it's too tempting.

Left and right, the people of Ebonpass die horrific, gruesome, painful deaths; their screams are sure to haunt the two brothers for the rest of their days. Every last one of them die, but the best is saved for last. Father Castiel is surrounded by Demons, armed with only his empty rifle. He pleads to Azazel to spare him, but he is soon set upon by the creatures. They devour him in minutes.

With everyone dead, Sam and Dean get up. Azazel's voice speaks to them; Dean holds Sam close.

_"Outsiders, you have escaped death. How very fortunate of you. You will leave this place, and never return. I will, however, keep a close eye on you, Samuel. Goodbye."_

The sky soon returns to normal, and Sam and Dean watch as the Demons become passive towards them. The beasts make a path for them, allowing the two to make their exit. Again, Sam hugs Dean, quietly sobbing in the crook of his neck. Dean offers as much comfort as he can before taking m his brother by the hand.

They walk through the streets until Dean finds his car still parked where he left it. They both hop inside, each not saying a single word. Dean turns the key in the ignition; the engine sputters again, coughing. Dean sighs, trying three more times until it springs to life. He looks out of the corner of his eye to see Sam staring at the hood of the car, eyes glowing a dim yellow.

Dean makes no comment on it. He won't. He can't. Drives out of the lot, and back out of where he came from. About a quarter mile out of the town, he looks back to see it all up in flames, gone. Those people worked so hard to try and preserve their way of life. Unfortunately for them, they kidnapped the wrong brother.

He looks over at Sam, watching him sleep as drives up on the highway. They have a lot of catching up to do, and a lot of trauma to work through as well.

Psychics.

The supernatural exists, they both know that now...but Dean idly wonders what other surprises the planet wants to throw at him.

If Hitler is somehow resurrected, that would suck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed it! It was a pleasure to write!


End file.
